


A Talker's Dilemma

by wisia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Fairy Tale Elements, Gen, Identity Porn, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Muteness, Secret Identity, Silence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-10 01:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: Tony loses his voice and falls in love with Steve. Steve is in love with Iron Man, and not Tony even though Tony's pretty great. And really it’s a Little Mermaid tale.





	A Talker's Dilemma

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellogarbagetime](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hellogarbagetime).
  * Inspired by [littlemermaid ironman/steve](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/312435) by hellogarbagetime. 



> I started posting this on tumblr, and I figured I should post it over here. It's not finished yet, but I'll post more when I have enough collected parts from tumblr/if it's finished.
> 
> Also, thank @hellogarbagetime on tumblr for this wonderful idea.

He shoots his mouth off again. Of course, he does. Because Tony doesn’t know how to stop talking. This is where it does get predictably sucky. The witch glares at him, annoyed at having her spiel interrupted.

“Look,” Tony says because as mentioned he doesn’t know how to stop talking. “This is fantastic and all, but I have places to be. So, could we hurry this up, hm?”

He’s serious about that. There’s a board meeting at two, and Pepper would kill him for taking this long of a lunch break, never mind that it was a New York City crisis. Tony steadies his hand, repulser ready because you could never guess what was going to happen. He could, actually. Predict it about 97.8% of the time.

The witch doesn’t smile. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Only if I got something in my mouth.” The innuendo rolls off his tongue easy, and it only pisses off the witch more. “Come on, can’t I just turn you over to SHIELD in peace?”

“I think not,” the witch says dryly. “I have a very good speech, but you keep interrupting me. I spent an hour on it.”

“Only an hour? I thought it takes a little more work than that.”

She raises her crooked wooden wand because she was an old fashioned witch, and it matches the gimmicky black robes she had. Tony fires, but the witch swerves out of the way. He only just registers her to his left with the sensors when a tingle washes over him.

“What?” Or Tony tries to say, but nothing comes out. He reaches for his throat reflexively but has to stop, flying back an inch as the witch preens in front of him.

“Ah, I can finally have some peace.”

Tony fires off another beam, but she cackles and vanishes with a click of her heels.

Fuck, Tony mouths quietly. He hates magic. That was the part of that damn 2.2% he couldn’t predict.

Naturally, the day goes downhill from there. It’s like some kind of law. Pepper is understandably upset, but Tony can’t help it. He can’t present to the board because he literally can’t speak. So, Pepper thinks he skips out another meeting, and he wastes several hours trying to get his voice back. There’s no coffee, and DUM-E happily unleashes the fire extinguisher—it wasn’t cute no matter what Rhodey said. Therefore, when Fury contacts him, Tony’s beyond irritated.

“Stark,” Fury intones like the leader of his secret spy organization he is.

Tony glares at him, but he can’t say anything. He does his absolutely best with a staring contest against Fury’s one eye, but it’s a lost cause.

“I don’t have time for this shit,” Fury says, making Tony blink. “I’ve got the WSC on my back, and I need to know if you can move the team in sooner.”

Tony considers. He’s mostly done rewiring and remodeling the floors. There isn’t much left he could do, so he gives a very pointed nod.

“Are you a child?” Fury asks, and there’s a twitch to his jaw. Because Tony is a child sometimes, he sticks his tongue out at him just for that. Fury sighs, unamused by what he thinks is Tony’s usual antics. That affronted Tony because he has more class than the kinderschool: I’m not talking to you, even if he did stick out his tongue at the man.

“I know you’re busy with important things to do as you always say, but the team moves in tomorrow. I need you to…”

Tony wishes he could talk over Fury, bulldoze right over his lecture. Lectures were more fun if he could babble his way out of them. About two minutes in, Fury stops. He squints at Tony with his one good eye.

“Where’s that peanut gallery of yours?” Fury asks, wary as he puts together that something is up.

Tony rolls his eyes and pulls up a keyboard. Quickly, he types: Lost my voice.

Fury stares at him before cracking up into a tiny, tiny smile to the corner of his lips. That was practically full out laughter for him. “You lost your voice?”

 _Yeah, you asshole._  Tony drums his fingers against the countertop.  _And, no, it’s none of your business. Now, in answer to your question, yes. Your precious boyband can move in. The floors are all set._

Jesus, typing is a pain in the butt. He hasn’t typed like this since the fucking eighties. Tony still shudders at the old school typewriter. At least, he wasn’t writing by hand. He doesn’t know how he survived without his fingers falling off.

“Tomorrow,” Fury says as if Tony losing his voice is barely a blip on his radar or even important enough to warrant more attention. “10AM—be nice.”

Before Tony can type, ‘I'm always nice’, Fury hangs up. He scowls at the screen. Whatever. He’ll find a way to get his voice back. Then, he can annoy Fury properly with his dulcet tones.

The next morning, Tony still hasn’t found a solution. Typing and gesturing can only go so far. He didn’t realize how much he talked while working until he kept telling JARVIS to do something but didn’t receive any response because JARVIS couldn’t hear him. That was on top of his sudden lack of ability to herd DUM-E and U out of his way. They took his pulling and shoving for playtime.

It was a good distraction though as 10AM approached because, in all honesty, Tony was nervous. In a matter of minutes, a bunch of superheroes were moving into his tower. Into his tower and personal space when Tony had his giant super duper secret identity. No one knew he was Iron Man, and he’ll like to keep it that way. Tony couldn't decide if his inability to talk was a blessing or a curse as he made his way down to the common floor. He had the awful tendency of putting his foot in his mouth without even trying.

Steve Rogers AKA Captain America was the first to arrive, and Tony has to blink. Because he knows the man. Several months ago, he had rescued this hot blond from a dive into the Atlantic from a burning plane. No wonder why the man had been stiff, frozen in terror. It was what landed him in the 21st century in the first place. From the not so secret file he hacked and read up on.

When it was clear that Tony wasn’t talking first, Steve Rogers sticks out his hand. Tony shakes it, annoyed that he couldn’t even say a word. He settles for smiling only it came out as his polite business smile.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stark. Thank you for inviting us to your home,” Steve says with a smile and makes Tony wince. God, he hates it—the only person that made it bearable was Pepper. Tony jerks his head in acknowledgement. Tony, he thinks in his head, Tony.

“I’m, uh, we’re very grateful,” Steve continues. Tony shrugs, trying to convey that it really didn’t matter. He’ll house them if he wanted, but the lack of speech apparently came off as too cold. The earnest smile Steve had on his face slowly slips off, and Tony wants to scream out of frustration. Tony keeps his own smile on, but there’s only so much he can express.

“The rest of the team will be arriving in the next fifteen minutes. There was a bit of a delay, and I came first.”

That Tony knows because Captain America actually rides a motorcycle, and wasn’t that something out of his childhood fantasy?

Tony lamely gestures to the living room and kitchen. The common floor had been designed with an open floor plan, and the lighting was more than impressive streaming in from the window. Steve follows his movement.

“It’s nice,” he says after a pause. “It’s awful decent of you to let us stay here.”

Tony shakes his head. Steve tilts his head at him, and Tony realizes how stupid he is for a genius. He signals to JARVIS.

“Welcome,” JARVIS says, and Steve startles, one arm up and the other reaching for the wrapped shield on his back. “I’m JARVIS, and I monitor the tower. My apologies, but Sir is incapable of speaking at the moment.”

“Oh,” Steve says. He relaxes his stance and looks at Tony, a little flush to his cheeks. It’s really adorable. As if Tony could be offended so easily. “I’m sorry to hear that. Ah, thank you, Jarvis?”

“You’re welcome. I can give you a tour in lieu of Sir. If you follow the lights, I can direct you to your floor.”

“M-my floor?” Steve stutters.

“Yes,” JARVIS says. “This is the common floor. Your floor is just one above it.”

Steve darts a look at the common floor and then at Tony. “You can’t really mean to give me a whole floor.”

Tony nods. Yes, he does. What else was he going to do with all this space?”

“I really can’t accept it.”

Steve looks a little star struck, and Tony can’t blame him. He smiles, nodding his head again as if he’s a bobble head.  _You can have anything you want, darling,_ he says to, well, to himself really.

“I—“

“Please follow me,” JARVIS interrupts. There’s an awkward pause before Steve goes to the elevator. Tony doesn’t tag along. It was getting really disappointing that he couldn't talk, but it was for the better. He doesn’t need Steve and the others to figure out his identity. He should keep his distance. Tony also makes a note to install some preset recording or something. It wouldn't do if Iron Man couldn’t communicate with anyone, even if he was a one man show.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

The Avengers move in, and Tony _still_ can’t talk. It’s been a week of trying every little trick and exhausting every resource, but nope. Nada. Zilch. Tony groans, but he doesn’t even have that satisfaction. Nothing took the fun out of a mini tantrum like losing your voice. It sucked that he couldn’t yell along with his rock music. He just felt stupid and probably looked stupid.

“Perhaps, Sir,” JARVIS says gamely.

Tony slices his hand through the air, and JARVIS goes as mute as he is currently. He’s not going for that 2.2% if he could help it. Not that he’ll even know where to look for a reputable and reliable magic user in the first place. Maybe SHIELD? He grimaces at the thought. He’s already been stabbed in the neck. He’ll have better luck if he just flailed around for a spark of bibbity-bobbity-boo.

JARVIS flashes a clock at him because he’s good like that even if he’s muted. The alarm flares an annoying rainbow though, almost seizure inducing lights, because JARVIS isn’t happy about it. Too bad. Tony’s not looking forward to this damn thing either. Since the Avengers moved in, they were hosting a sort of welcome party for them. It was good PR, and it would have been fine and dandy if Tony could charm all the investors and peeps. There strangely weren’t many people agreeable with working in a tower occupied by superheroes. Never mind that Iron Man was more than enough to make the tower a target before they moved in. He pushes the clock away. He’s already dressed for once, suit perfectly tailored and looking hot. He’s just waiting for—

The door to his workshop whirls open. James Rhodes strides through, and shit he misses Rhodey. He’s about to bear hug the man when James takes one look at him (lips moving, no sound coming out) and doubles over laughing.

“I know JARVIS told me, but I still can’t believe it.”

Tony shouts to himself and gesticulates wildly at him. He’s very clear about the rudeness of his words. That makes James laugh even harder until Tony whacks him in the shoulder.

“You—oh man,” Jim says, shaking his head. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

But there’s still a twitch of amusement to his lips. Tony scowls. He loves this bastard, he swears. He signs it, pointing at himself and making a heart before pointing at Jim.

“I know,” Jim says, pulling him into a hug. “You ready?”

Tony scrunches his face. He hates events like this, even more when something happens to him because society won’t stop talking. He’s going to be all over TMZ tomorrow. He just knows it if the Avengers doesn’t take full coverage.

Jim pats him, and Tony resignedly points to his wonderful red and gold armor in the corner. It has been nicely polished and ready for today. Jim tucks himself into the suit. It’s an awkward fit, but it’ll have to do. Tony has to show up with Iron Man or people will start questioning why Tony and Iron Man never appears together. Besides, it’s on wiki. Iron Man, official bodyguard to Tony Stark.

“Does Pepper knows about this?” Jim flexes the gauntlet’s fingers, testing the grip. If anything happens, he’ll still need to be able to operate the suit.

Tony rolls his eyes. _When has Pepper not known?_

JARVIS answers for him. “When Sir didn’t attend the last two scheduled meetings, she came to the workshop and found him struggling to tell DUM-E no smoothies.”

 _Well, you try drinking a smoothie with motor oil in it,_ Tony grouses, still inaudible. He knows there is a hint of humor in JARVIS’s tones.

“Hm,” Jim says, still very amused by the entire situation. “What’s your cover?”

“The board and the public has been told that Sir suffered from a very severe case of laryngitis.”

Jim snorts. “And they bought that?”

“Miss Potts can be quite convincing.”

Tony nods. He wags a finger at Jim and makes a ‘X’ with his index fingers. It would be very bad to cross Pepper.

“You don’t need to tell me.” Jim snaps the faceplate down and clunks to the door. It pains Tony how inelegant Iron Man looks. Iron Patriot was the bulky clumsier cousin, not him. Sighing, Tony fiddles with his tie and plasters a smile on his face as they head up to the party.

He spots the Black Widow first. Natasha’s stunning in her green gown. It has a mermaid tail, and Tony badly wants to quip that their roles should be reversed. He settles for waving a few lazy fingers in greeting. Natasha smirks.

“Hello,” she says, just a bit sultry.

He raises his eyebrows at her, but her motive is clearer when her gaze moves on over to Iron Man.

“Introduce me to your friend,” Natasha drawls. Tony shakes his head and smiles a little harder. As if he’ll do that. She already knew he was Iron Man besides Fury and Coulson. He puts a hand to his neck, miming her stabbing him in the neck.

She laughs and pats Iron Man’s cheek. To Jim’s credit, he doesn’t react. Though, Tony’s inclined to think he’s more shellshock at how beautiful she is and her history. The Black Widow was an awe in any highbrow event.

“Very well,” Natasha says, gracious as if she was the host. Which she probably was since Tony knows she talked to Pepper about setting the whole affair up. “Why don’t you go help him out?”

Captain America is stuck in a sea of people, and Tony can tell from the posture that the good Captain is uncomfortable. Tony looks at her pointedly. He doesn’t have a voice. What does she expect him to do? Natasha gives him a gentle turn in Steve’s direction.

Jim can’t help him, and Tony ends up swanning across the floor with the Stark flair and confidence pasted on. It’s easy enough to make an entrance. He accepts the good wishes, kisses a few ladies (on the cheek, mind you), and draws the attention off Steve. Even without his voice, Tony manages to herd Steve out and into a small corner of a room. He’s just the teeniest smug because he’s still got it despite being on the sad side of forty and voiceless. So, maybe Natasha was on to something there.

He whisks two glasses of champagne off a passing waiter’s tray, handing one to Steve. He can’t help but look at him surreptitiously. The man’s gorgeous, and Tony’s surprised that he’s only mildly annoyed after all the way Howard’s lectures of the man had rankled him. He really thinks not being to talk helps.

“Thank you,” Steve says. He pauses. “I’m not used to this.”

Tony nods, flaps a hand in kind. He remembers when he took Jim to a high society shinding the first time. It was awful on everyone’s part except for them.

“Oh. Gosh, I—you got.” Steve stumbles, having forgotten that Tony can’t talk. “I, I hope you feel better.”

Tony pats him on the shoulder. They stand in silence for a while as Tony sips his drink. Covertly, he studies Steve out of the corner of his eye. Definitely good looking. He’s also amazed that Captain America is standing next to him, and it’s enough to almost blind him to what’s holding Steve’s attention. He’s floored to notice that Steve’s gaze is on Iron Man. It’s an intense staring, and Tony can’t help but grin. Iron Man is his best work, and he nudges Steve.

Steve flushes, a soft pink on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. Am I ignoring you?”

Tony shakes his head. He fishes out his cell. He types.

_How’s it going, Cap?_

“I’m—I’m fine. Settling in, I suppose.”

It’s stilted conversation, not just because they haven’t interacted since the Avengers moved in or for the texting. Captain America seems a tad distracted. His eyes keep lingering on Iron Man, enough that Tony finally asks. He’s proud of the suit, and he doesn’t mind answering questions. They’re nice questions too until Steve asks the one Tony really should have been more prepared to answer.

“I was, um, wondering why Iron Man isn’t an Avenger. He seems to do a lot of good work, you—uh—“

Tony’s face shutters, smile turning brittle. Iron Man recommended. Tony Stark, no. He’s still bitter about it, even if he can put his ego aside to be a consultant. Has to because if he doesn’t…

There’s a roar in his ears, and Tony pushes the memories down. He can’t afford a panic attack here. It wasn’t even a real fucking trigger for that matter. Deliberately slow and steady, Tony types. It takes all his concentration just to write three words.

_He’s my bodyguard._

Steve frowns, but Tony doesn’t text anything further.

“Yes, but—“

Tony grits his teeth. He shakes his head firmly, no. Then, he walks away. There’s too much he wants to say, and too much he can’t say. Nothing he can explain or want to explain.

Jim joins him without a beat, the armor gleaming.

“Are you okay?”

Tony nods, and Rhodey can’t call him out on it anyway. He does not look back at where he left Captain America standing without a word.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

It wasn’t Steve’s fault that Tony was an insecure bastard. He should apologize or something, but the emotion is too raw. Steve struck a nerve even if he didn’t know it. Because it hurts more than it should just being a consultant. If Iron Man gets brutal during the next fight with Doom and assists the Avengers more aggressively under SHIELD’s nose, well, he wasn’t a fair man.

Besides, Tony’s only the rich asshole funding the team. He provides the moolah and equipment, and he got—he keeps his distance. Uses JARVIS to avoid Steve and the rest of the team. It helps that Tony can’t talk. Less questions, and he can tinker in the workshop. In the end, it isn’t Steve that gets him out of his bubble zone.

Tony screams soundlessly, a perfect imitation of silent film glory, and nearly drops his mug when Hawkeye lands right in front of him. _Fuck!_ Tony didn’t even know there was an air vent there. He clutches his heart and waves his mug in indignation. Clint eyes him. It’s the first time they’ve really been in a situation to…not to talk, but Tony huffs. He can’t think. He’s been awake for the past thirty or so hours, and he only came up to the team common floor out of desperation, searching for coffee.

Clint snorts, entirely unphased at meeting the legendary Tony Stark. He raises an eyebrow at the sad, empty mug in Tony’s hand. Sluggishly, Tony thinks Nat must had warned him or said something, but he doesn’t care. Not when Clint says, “Let me guess, coffee?”

Tony nods, eagers, and follows Clint. He’s housing them. He deserves some coffee for all his work. Clint delivers. The coffee’s hot, steamy, and so good. Tony moans in appreciation.

“I know that’s supposed to be sexy, but you just look weird.”

Tony’s too in love with the coffee, and lets the comment slide. That, and Tony couldn’t say a word anyway. With a cup in him, he has enough sense to drag out a keyboard on the counter. Quickly, he types: Marry me.

“Sure, I’ll be your kept man,” Clint agrees. “I’ve always wanted to someone’s boy toy, but how about this? Because I don’t want to be killed by your scary girlfriend.”

Clint wriggles his fingers.

“Sign language, until you get your voice back.”

It’s not a bad idea. Tony resolves to do a little extra next time SHIELD hands him Hawkeye’s bow for upgrades. He also doesn’t point out that he and Pepper are not together, though that’s more because he couldn’t actually tell the guy. Anyone with a healthy fear of Pepper was in his good books though.

Clint’s lessons brings him up to the common floor a little more often. They hog the kitchen table, and he’s plied with coffee as they run down the alphabets and basic words. He finds that Thor is really that awesome. It was difficult to hate a guy, excuse me, god like him. And the Hulk—Bruce Banner. God, Tony’s in tears that he can’t communicate for once. He finally has someone of Bruce’s brilliance in his presence, and he can’t even talk to the damn guy. It’s aggravating.

“Oh,” Steve says, blinking. Tony freezes, chocolate chip cookie in his mouth. He’s a little worse for wear in his shop gear, and he’s not prepared for the way Steve looks. Tight white t-shirt and obviously just back from a run.

“Hey,” Clint waves. “Want to join?”

They’d abandoned lessons in favor of a poker game, and it’s absurd that Tony is losing considering he’s not even saying a word. He was half considering about counting the cards. It took more effort not to count them.

Steve glances at Tony, hesitance evident in the way his foot slides back a little. “Um…”

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything because Natasha sweeps through the door, dragging him along.

“Team bonding,” she says curtly.

Steve says something then. “But Mr. Stark is—“

Tony narrows his eyes.

“—uh.” Steve stops himself and sits down with a jerk. The man is obviously having second thoughts, and Tony folds his cards. He doesn’t need to be here when he’s not wanted. He’s not one of their precious Avengers after all.

“No. You don’t have to go.” Steve puts a hand to Tony’s arm. “Please, I’ll be happy if you join our team. After all, you do a great deal for us.”

It’s diplomatic enough that Tony concedes. It’s a tense game. As they play, Steve doesn’t quite relaxes. He keeps looking at Tony out of the corner of his eye. It’s grating on Tony’s nerves, puts all his senses on high alert. It’s unsettling to have Steve’s focus on him. He has to plead leaving after the second round, signing to Clint he has work to do.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

Tony patrols the city, finding freedom as he soars across the sky and waves to the tourists and every day New Yorker. He still hasn’t figure out a way to talk, and he’s getting a little tired of texting and typing. Of course, think of it, and she appears.

The witch’s astride on her broomstick, skirt and hat all prim and proper.

“Well, what do we have here?” she cackles, flying alongside Tony.

“Enjoying my day,” Tony says through the modulated speaker in the Iron Man suit. The witch almost recoils and falls off her broom.

“What? How?”

Tony shrugs. “How do you like that?”

The gauntlets tracks his fingers, translating the mimicked typing into robotic speech.

“Cheater.” The witch wrinkles her nose.

For that, Tony doesn’t need words to convey the middle finger.

“Ah,” the witch says to herself. There’s a knowing look in her eyes, and Tony doesn’t like it. “I had almost forgotten.”

Tony’s repulsor’s winds down as ice ran through his veins. That wasn’t the witch’s voice. It was his own.

“How do you like that?” the witch tilts her hat at him.

“Ursula’s prettier.”

He fires, and the witch dodges. She even had his voice contained within a seashell. Tony can see it glowing as the witch laughs with his fucking voice.

He fires again, and she smacks him with the end of her broom. He flies after her.

_Hell, no!_

The witch’s pointing her wand at him again, and—

_Fuck!_

There’s another tingle, and he feels it in his throat and in his hands. Tony hurries back to the lab, but he can’t figure out what she did. Every test comes up negative.

He signals for JARVIS to run another test, but JARVIS doesn’t do a thing. Tony taps on the keyboard: run the next test. What’s the hold up, J?

JARVIS still doesn’t do anything.

 _JARVIS?_ Tony looks up at the ceiling. There’s a pause before JARVIs finally replies.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to understand what you’re typing.”

Tony looks at what he typed.

The words are gone, replaced by a string of nonsense letters, numbers, and symbols.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

Tony does what he does best. He drowns himself in alcohol.

It wasn’t the greatest coping method, but it had been a Tony Stark Grade A standard since he started drinking. And this, this inability to be understood by even JARVIS, warrants at least that. So, he cracks open the bottle and went at it.

For all that he was an asshole, Tony still craves a human touch. A connection. He blames the books he read growing up. Emotions. Howard would laugh. Tony touches his arc reactor. Maybe he would be an emotionless robot like the gossip rags sometimes claims. He swigs down another gulp. Cheap whiskey was the way to go. He points the hammer in his right up at the ceiling, where people assumed JARVIS lived. Another swig.

 _For you_ , Tony declares silent and solemn. He hopes JARVIS can read his lips.

He hammers away. Pouring all his frustration into it. Breaks down metal into slags. Sparks fly and Tony’s only a little crazy. He takes another gulp and strikes down again and again and again. He’s not going to cry just because he can’t talk to JARVIS or his bots. He’s going to find that fucking witch and—

Tony’s confused as his hand comes down with a hard swing only to be stopped.

“Stop.”

It’s Captain America, and Tony’s too conscious of the drunkard he is even through his inebriation. He shoves the hammer into Steve’s chest, angry.

_What the hell?_

Steve doesn’t even flinch, takes the hammer and sets it aside. Tony throws his hands up.

_How did you even get in?_

Because it’s Tony’s personal workshop, and very few people had access. He’s irritated beyond hell that his session has been interrupted. It’s another strike on his record for apple pie.

“I’m sorry. Jarvis said you were, uh, indisposed.”

Tony grits his teeth. _What?_

“Drinking,” Steve supplies, thinking that Tony didn’t understand, and then blanches. He probably didn’t mean to say it so directly.

It doesn’t matter, and Tony points at the door.

_Get out!_

Steve doesn’t leave, and Tony points at the door again, furious.

“I can’t do that,” Steve says when he can. There’s nothing stopping him. Tony glares at him and reaches for the hammer. Steve steps in front of it, blocking.

“I mean it, Mr. Stark.”

Tony growls, still soundless, but nobody could mistake the look on his face.

“Calm down, Mr. Stark.”

And Tony explodes.

 _Calm down? You want me to calm down?_ He pokes Steve hard in the chest. _You try going without talking and then find out you can’t even type a single fucking sentence. And nobody can understand what the hell you want._

Steve’s nonplussed. Merely says, “I’m sorry. I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

Instead of firing up Tony’s anger, the words punches the wind right out of him. He snaps his mouth close, jaw cracking, and turns to the side. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do…

Steve makes a motion to put a hand on his shoulder but seems to think better of it. Instead, he comes closer and catches Tony’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and it actually sounds sincere. Though, Tony can grudgingly admit Steve has nothing to apologize for. Tony pushes through him to slump on the ratty coach. He pretends not to notice as Steve discretely pushes the alcohol out of sight. Tony looks up at JARVIS who still knows what he means without speech.

“I don’t apologize for involving Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says. “The bots and I were worried.”

Tony…he closes his eyes. Because he can be downright destructive four sheets to the wind. He almost damaged DUM-E one time before and placed protocols after that incident. Still, he was nowhere near that drunk for JARVIS to intervene.

He signs an apology to JARVIS.

“And, Sir?”

Tony motions for him to go on.

“I’ve taken the liberty of informing Captain Rogers regarding the loss of your voice.”

Tony jerks. _You did what?_

He looks at Steve who only confirms it.

“He apprised me of the situation. You should have told us, Mr. Stark. You know we’re here to help, and not just because you do so much for us already.”

Tony shoots a nervous glance up to one of JARVIS’s cameras, but he’s reassured that Steve doesn’t know he’s Iron Man a few moments later. JARVIS was a rather very intelligence system for a reason.

“If Iron Man is ever unavailable, I can cover for him. You didn’t have to get attacked just because Iron Man wasn’t available.”

Tony snorts.

“I’m serious,” Steve says, mistaking the snort for disbelief. “You have my word as Captain America.”

Tony rubs his temples. He wasn’t anywhere entirely sober for Steve to look at him with those earnest puppy eyes, ready like a knight in shining armor.

“I know we didn’t exactly get off on the best foot, but you can count on me and the Avengers.”

Oh god, it was a Captain America-esque lecture too.

He puts his hand over Steve’s mouth. He can’t take this.

“Uh…Mr. Stark?”

_I give up. You’re too good._

He removes his hand from Steve’s mouth and takes Steve’s hand instead. Tony shakes it. They can start over, and Tony will try not to be too much of an ass.

 

**oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 

It’s probably the fact that Tony can’t say a single word at all that keeps their relationship going. Because Tony sure as hell knows he has the tendency to drive people off with his tongue. That’s if they weren’t too busy sucking on it, and hate sex can be amazing. Of course, that wasn’t likely to happen with wholesome Apple Pie over here, but a guy can dream. If he gets his voice back.

They kind of settle into an awkward routine. Steve goes for a jog at rooster o’clock, and Tony stays up from working at projects. The board is still on his ass anyway for skipping the meetings, but who’s going to tell him off when Tony can’t say a thing? Besides, good old Pepperpot got it covered. Anyway, he’s digressing. Steve makes him breakfast, admonishes him for the caffeine being mainlined into his bloodstream, and it’s—

It kind of hurts. This wholesomeness, especially with the way Steve looks standing in front of the window, sunlight lighting him from behind like an ethereal being.

“Are you well, Mr. Stark?” Because of course Steve would notice him staring at him. It’s a good thing Tony’s expression before a decent amount of coffee tends to be a vacant stare and not the open mouth drool he would have going normally staring at someone this hot.

Tony shakes his head, wrinkles his nose. _I hate this Mr. Stark business. You need to rectify this immediately._

Steve still looks concerns because Tony still can’t communicate, so he waves his hand at him until Steve gets the message. It’s only force of habit that Tony keeps opening his mouth and having no sound come out.

“I worry, you know,” Steve says. “It can’t be easy not talking.”

He slides over a steaming hot cup of tea to him. Tony frowns because it isn’t his coffee. He gives Steve a pointed look. He’s never been a tea drinker unless Aunt Peggy was around.

Steve pushes it closer to him. “No coffee. This has some honey in it. It always made me feel better whenever I had a sore throat, and I—I used to get sick a lot. I mean, uh, not that you have a sore throat. You’re pretending, but uh. It might help, and—”

Steve shrugged, entirely sheepish and bashful. It was…that was…

Tony swigs the tea. He doesn’t think he can handle more of this wholesomeness. He rather go back to being an ass.

It makes Steve smile, and Tony really has to turn away or he’s going to get burned by that beauty. He signs a quick thank you, ready to dash off.

“Wait, Mr. Stark?”

Tony pauses. _Yes?_

Because he was trying not to be asshole, and Steve just thoughtfully made him tea for his sore throat. Tony can’t help but catch the way Steve’s cheeks turn the slightest pink, adding to the wonderful picture here.

“I—I know Iron Man is your bodyguard,” Steve starts. “So, he can’t be a full time Avenger, and I won’t ask that of you.”

 _What?_ Tony really doesn’t get what’s going on. Steve misinterprets his bewilderment.

“But I, we do think of Iron Man as one of ours, even if it’s unofficially. You could, um, would you please let him know he’s welcome to join us anytime? He’s part of the team.”

Tony is silent. Not just because he can’t talk but because he doesn’t know how to respond. Steve fidgets.

“Uh, not to say—you’re part of the team too, Mr. Stark. In all the things you do. And you’re welcome to join our team activities too. It’s just, I, we’ll like Iron Man to be part of it.”

It’s really the most endearing way of asking Tony, well, Iron Man, to join the party. It isn’t a good idea, but Tony feels—there’s an emotion he can’t quite identify swelling in his heart, that’s kind of warm too.

Tony nods, and the smile that graces Steve’s face is probably the brightest he has ever seen.

“Thank you,” Steve says. “I really appreciate it. You don’t know what Iron Man means to…to us. I know you are protective of him.”

Well, Tony guesses it could be thought of that way. He remembers how badly he reacted at that event when Steve asked him about Iron Man not being an Avenger. It was still a sore point, but the magnitude of it had soften.

_Don’t mention it._

Tony shrugged at Steve, walking backward to the lab. He suddenly had a desire to move the upgrades for Steve’s suit to the top of his worklist.


End file.
